


Fairytale Comes True

by Lichinamo



Series: Their Royal Highnesses Curt Mega and Owen Carvour [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe- Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Royalty, Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), it’s soft trust me, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/pseuds/Lichinamo
Summary: Their two kingdoms had been warring for longer than Curt had been alive. Carvonya had finally backed them into a corner, and they were forced to broker a treaty. It came with one large requirement on their part:Curt had to marry the heir to the Carvonyan throne and unite the two kingdoms under a peaceful rule.Title taken from “Everything to Win” from Anastasia!
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: Their Royal Highnesses Curt Mega and Owen Carvour [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873198
Comments: 42
Kudos: 56





	1. Meet The Royal Mess

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to SINGLE HANDEDLY FILL THE SAF TAG WITH MY FAVORITE TROPES IF IT FUCKING KILLS ME
> 
> it might kill me
> 
> Edit: made a few edits, changed Curt’s middle name, small stuff like that

“Your Highness?”

Curt sighed, casting his gaze away from the window and to the only person he could trust- his servant and friend, Barb. “Yes, Barb?”

Barb looked nervous, though that was likely because she didn’t like the situation any more than he did. “We’re almost to Carvour Palace.”

“Wonderful,” Curt replied, rolling his eyes.

Their two kingdoms had been warring for longer than Curt had been alive. Carvonya had finally backed them into a corner, and they were forced to broker a treaty. It came with one large requirement on their part:

Curt had to marry the heir to the Carvonyan throne and unite the two kingdoms under a peaceful rule.

If he didn’t do it, they would decimate his people, so he was forced to agree. He’d never even met the Carvour heir, growing up a sheltered child far away from the dangers of the war, so he didn’t know anything about his husband-to-be.

Barb patted his knee reassuringly, sensing his sour mood. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Your Highness.”

“I hope so.”

The two of them sat in silence for the rest of the ride. Eventually, the carriage rolled to a stop outside of the palace gates.

It was grand- almost as grand as Palace de Mega- with tall spires and white stone. Curt could see the appeal to living there, but his heart ached for the comfort of his childhood home, made of marble and bordering the sea.

Anxiety gnawed at Curt’s insides as the gates opened and the carriage continued its way inside. Up until now, his impending marriage was a false monster; one that wasn’t real, something he could pretend didn’t exist if he just closed his eyes. Now that he was here, it was an inevitability, and that made it all the more terrifying.

Curt took a steadying breath and masked his nerves with an expression of stoicism. A servant opened the door to the carriage, and he stepped out onto the cobblestone. The cold air bit his cheeks, and he was glad he was wearing his warmest fur cloak over his tunic.

The servant bowed quickly, before leading him and Barb off inside the palace. Curt kept his eyes trained straight ahead, avoiding looking like he was captivated by the grandeur of the halls. It wouldn’t do to show a sign of weakness.

They were brought into the throne room, and Curt clenched his jaw so as to not gape at the opulence. The red-painted room was adorned with gold trimmings, with tall white columns near the back where the thrones sat. The ceiling was a high dome that had an ornate chandelier dangling from the center.

Standing by the throne were two men and a woman- the King, the Prince and someone who was most likely his servant. The King hardly held Curt’s attention; his eyes were glued to his fiancé.

Prince Owen Michael Carvour III stood tall, hands clasped behind his back. A golden crown sat atop his dark hair, and he was wearing a dark blue tunic with a white sash and trousers. His cape was the same color of the walls. Curt, despite knowing his cloak was made of the finest ermine fur available, suddenly felt inadequate.

Curt and Barb stopped an appropriate distance from the throne, and the Carvonyan trio made their way down to greet them. Curt felt hot under his collar.

The servant that had led them in cleared his throat. “Presenting Prince Curtis Laurent Mega IV and his servant Lady Barbara Lavernor.”

Barb dipped into a low curtsey, and Curt bowed his head slightly lower than he would have a few minutes ago.

Prince Owen stepped closer to them, and Curt quietly sucked in a breath. He gestured slightly to indicate he wanted Curt’s hand, and he gave it to the barely taller man.

Prince Owen pressed a delicate kiss to Curt’s knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A tingle ran through Curt’s body. “The pleasure is all mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aware Curt’s middle name is Lawrence, I’m drawing heavy inspiration from France for his side of things. Owen, I’m drawing some British with a mix of Russian  
> This does not take place in a fully fictional world- the kingdoms are made up, but places like France, Russia, etc still exist. I’m iffy on America, though  
> Don’t ask me how long this will be because that is a mystery to me, too


	2. Do Not Walk, But Try to Float

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, reading comments and thriving: :)
> 
> Also prepare yourself for Anastasia references in the chapter titles. Y’all familiar with Growing Old might see me reuse chapter titles but there’s only SO MUCH ANASTASIA THAT EXISTS-

The wedding was to be in three days, to give Curt and Prince Owen time to get to know each other. Curt was glad for it; he knew of some royals who were married the moment they stepped out of the carriage, and he didn’t want that for himself.

After the introduction, Curt and Barb had been shown to their quarters. Curt’s room was adequate, he supposed; they didn’t go to any great lengths to try and impress him with the finest bed sheets or pillows they had, since he would just be moving into Prince Owen’s room in a few days anyway.

Curt sighed, laying back on the bed. He’d brought very few belongings from home with him, and most of them were already in Prince Owen’s room- he only had the bare minimum in these quarters since, again, he would only be here for a few days. It felt lonely, even though he knew Barb was in the room attached to his. He missed the sound of the sea, the waves hitting the sand. . .

A knock on the door startled Curt out of his thoughts, and he quickly sat up into a proper position, adjusting his clothes. “You may enter.”

A servant entered, bowing. “Prince Owen wishes to know if you’d like to take a turn around the gardens with him.”

Curt inclined his head. “I would. May I change into a more suitable outfit?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I will be outside the door when you are ready.” The servant bowed again, quickly exiting the room.

Curt rose to his feet, quickly changing into a more casual- but no less impressive- red tunic and a mink cloak. He exited the room and nodded once at the servant, who lead him through the winding halls of the palace to the gardens.

Carvour Palace was renowned for its luxurious gardens, and Curt was glad to have the chance to finally see them in person.

Prince Owen was standing just outside the entrance to the garden, clad in an outfit similar to Curt’s- granted, the style was different due to the varying fashions of their kingdoms, but both their tunics were lighter and less restrictive than what they’d been wearing earlier.

Prince Owen addressed the servant first. “Thank you, Brian. You’re excused.”

The servant bowed to the both of them and scurried off, and Curt had to stomp down on his anxiety at the thought of being alone with his fiancé for the first time.

Prince Owen offered his arm to Curt, and he carefully took it, threading his arm in between the taller prince’s so the insides of their elbows were touching.

Prince Owen began to walk him around the garden. It was a beautiful sight; there were more variations of flowers than Curt could possibly name, and the hedges were pruned expertly.

“Are you tired from your journey?” Prince Owen asked to make conversation. Curt understood why he was presented with such a simple, low-stakes question; they were essentially strangers, and it was hard to find the right words when one was trying to speak to their husband-to-be that they didn’t even know.

“Only somewhat,” Curt replied, keeping his eyes on the garden and not on Prince Owen. “The boat ride was rough, but I was able to rest in the carriage.”

Prince Owen hummed. “Can you tell me what it’s like, traveling by sea?”

It made sense that Prince Owen didn’t have as much experience with the water as Curt did; Megaterre was bordered by the ocean on three sides, while Carvonya was almost entirely land-locked, having a very small piece of the coast.

“It depends on how used you are to the water,” Curt said honestly. “I’ve known some good men who could take a dozen knights in a single battle, but can’t keep down their lunches on a boat.”

Prince Owen laughed, and Curt found he liked the sound. “And how used to it are you, Prince Curt?”

“I was practically raised at sea.” Curt rested his head on Prince Owen’s shoulder, reminiscing. “Palace de Mega is right on the beach, and every summer we’d go out on one of the boats and tour the kingdom. . .”

Curt trailed off as he realized he would never get to do that again. He’d never go with his Maman and journey to see the people, _his_ people, and give gifts of good will to each town to make sure they were well taken care of.

Prince Owen stopped his walking and turned to face Curt. He cupped his cheek gently. “I’m sorry.”

Curt shook his head. “What do you have to be sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

Prince Owen brushed his thumb over Curt’s cheek. “I know,” he said quietly, “but I’m sorry anyway.” He paused, as if he were mulling something over. “Would you like it if we returned to Palace de Mega for our summers?”

Curt’s heart raced. It was either a cruel reminder that his kingdom was being forcibly merged with Carvonya, or a thoughtful gesture on Prince Owen’s part. Curt chose to see it as the latter, and he said with suppressed emotion, “I would.”

Prince Owen nodded, as if the matter were settled. He hesitated in pulling away from Curt’s face, eyes roaming over every inch of it, before he leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Curt’s cheek. “It will be done.”

Curt blushed deeply at the contact, and Prince Owen pulled away from him, returning to their earlier position. The rest of their walk was silent.


	3. The Leaves Unfold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: death
> 
> >:)

There were a few different attitudes the people of Carvour Palace were taking towards him.

There were the people who resented Curt, either because he was from Megaterre or because he didn’t share any of their _proper Carvonyan blood_. These people were typically the members of the nobility, and Curt simply turned his nose up at them. He didn’t have anything to prove to people like that.

There were the people who feared him, scared that he was going to do something savage like demand they tear out one of their own eyeballs and serve it to him as a garnish- he knew the anti-Megaterran propaganda that was spread in Carvonya, and how they spoke of him and his people like they were beasts. Usually these were servants that stared at him in the halls.

The worst, though, were the people who pitied him. The ones who gave him looks that they didn’t think he could see, whispering about the “ _poor young prince who had his whole life just ripped away_ ”. Curt despised them.

He didn’t need their pity, damn it! He was the Crown Prince of Megaterre! He wasn’t weak, he could handle this, he could handle anything-

Curt took a steadying breath, trying not to crush the quill in his hand. It was best not to get distracted; he was trying to write a notice to the citizens of his kingdom, reassuring them that they hadn’t failed, they would still be Megaterrans even if they merged with Carvonya.

Curt found himself wondering, _What would Maman say?_ , and before he could help it, a few tears were slipping down his face and onto the parchment.

Focus, Curt. You need to get a hold of yourself. Don’t show any weakness. Don’t-

“Curt?”

Curt looked up abruptly, startled by the sudden appearance of Prince Owen. He had a look of concern on his face, and Curt belatedly realized it was probably because of his distress.

Curt tried to smooth out his expression, and he sat up straight. “Yes, Prince Owen?”

“We’re to be married soon, I believe we can forgo the formalities,” Prince Owen said softly, approaching him. “May I sit?”

Curt nodded, and his fiancé brought over a chair that was on the other side of the room so he could sit down beside him. “What’s wrong?”

Curt opened his mouth to deny the fact that there was anything wrong with him, but reconsidered. Prince Owen- _Owen, his husband-to-be_ \- was a kind man from what he’d seen, maybe. . . 

“I miss my Maman,” He confessed quietly. 

Owen nodded in understanding. “Where is she, if I may ask?”

Curt’s mouth was suddenly dry, and he swallowed before speaking. “She passed. Just after the treaty was finalized.”

A look of surprise crossed over Owen’s face, and Curt continued, “It broke her heart, sending me away like this. She couldn’t live with herself, and one night she just. . .”

Curt closed his eyes. He remembered her last moments, holding her in his arms as she cried and apologized over and over for what she was doing to him. He’d kissed her face and told her never to apologize, she was the best Maman he could’ve possibly asked for, he loved her more than the world.

They didn’t even have time for a proper funeral- Curt had to leave for Carvonya. He insisted they hold one in his absence; they scheduled it for his wedding day.

A hand slipped into his. “I’m so sorry, Curt. I didn’t know.”

Curt shook his head. “How could you? It only just happened.”

Owen squeezed his hand gently, and he spoke slowly. “When I was younger, I lost my Mum. Do you know what my nanny told me?” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “She told me to cry as much as I wanted and damn anyone who dared to judge me. If you want to cry for your mother, _cry._ ”

Curt didn’t need to be told twice. He broke down into sobs, finally allowing himself to grieve his wonderful Maman.


	4. Am I Floating?

Curt felt like he was going to scream.

The wedding was tomorrow, and if he had to think about it for even a second longer he was going to tear his hair out.

It wasn’t easy, uniting the wedding traditions of two separate kingdoms. Especially when he was the only one there to advocate for himself and what he wanted in the ceremony.

“It’s a Carvonyan tradition that the wedded couple wear roses to ward off evil spirits,” A member of the nobility- Curt hadn’t caught his name, he believed the man to be an Earl- argued.

“Well it’s a Megaterran tradition that we wear _pearls_ for good luck,” Curt sniped back, tired of all the fighting.

“There won’t be any filthy Megaterran traditions in this wedding-”

“It’s _my_ wedding, I should have a say in-”

A hand slammed down on the table, causing a cracking sound to echo through the chambers. “Enough!”

All heads snapped over to Owen, who had risen to his feet. “This wedding is about uniting the two kingdoms, is it not?” He looked sharply around the room. “Then we should have a mixture of traditions, correct?”

Most of the room looked uncomfortable, while Curt just felt touched. He hadn’t anticipated Owen standing up for him, and here the man was, demanding they respect Curt’s desires.

The Earl from before spoke up. “Your Highness-”

Owen cut him off quickly. “The wedding will include both kingdom’s most important traditions, and that is final. If anyone disagrees with my decision, they are quite welcome to _not attend._ ”

Curt sucked in a breath, and he knew he wasn’t the only person in the room to do so. A royal wedding was one of the grandest, most important events a kingdom could hold; to be invited to one was considered an honor and a mark of status. 

If a person was invited to a royal wedding and chose not to go. . .

Well, it was unthinkable. Members of nobility had lost their titles over failing to attend royal weddings; it was seen as a statement against the crown.

Owen nodded once, as if the matter were settled. “This meeting is adjourned.” He turned sharply on his heel and left with a flick of his cape.

Curt stared after him, dazed. Not once had Curt considered that Owen might do something so bold as to stand up for him. He wasn’t dumb; he knew that Owen was the one with the power between them. For him to use it to protect Curt. . .

It gave him chills.


	5. Wedding Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it slow burn if they get married in chapter 5?

It was the morning of his wedding day, and Curt didn’t know how to feel.

When he was a boy, he’d dreamed of how his wedding would play out; his spouse would be wonderful and kind, and they would be married on one of the Palace balconies at sunrise, the sea providing a perfect backdrop to a perfect ceremony. . .

Then his betrothal to Owen came, and his dreams were crushed.

The image of his wedding turned Hellish. He pictured being dragged to the alter in invisible chains, rain pouring down from the sky in an echo of his emotions, the knowledge he was forever doomed in a loveless marriage at the forefront of his mind until the night ended.

Now, though? Curt didn’t have the faintest idea _what_ to expect.

Owen had been infinitely better than he could’ve ever hoped; he treated Curt with a kindness that he didn’t receive from anyone else in the palace. He was gentle with him, as if Owen knew that he was struggling to adjust to all the sudden changes.

“Are you okay, Your Highness?” Barb asked delicately, snapping him out of his thoughts. She was helping him prepare for the ceremony, as his outfit was too elaborate for him to dress himself in unaided.

Curt sighed. “I don’t know, Barb.”

Barb fastened his cloak to his collar. This cloak, like the one he’d worn the day he arrived, was made of ermine fur, but was designed specifically to be a marital garment and thus had white velvet as its fabric. “If I may be so bold as to say? I think it’ll be all right in the end.”

“I truly hope you’re right, Barb.”

Barb gave him a cheeky smile as she brushed non-existent dust off his clothes. “I usually am.”

Curt laughed, and she escorted him to the ceremony as far as she could. As a servant, Barb wasn’t allowed any further than the door, but she could offer him support until he got there.

They walked down the empty halls, anticipation building in Curt’s belly. He truly did not know where he was to be married; Owen had wanted to keep it a surprise.

Barb came to a halt outside an ornate door, and she quickly took his hand in hers before squeezing it. “Good luck, Curt.”

Curt marveled at her, but Barb dropped his hand and ran off as fast as she could. Curt steeled himself, took in a deep breath, and nodded at the guards, who pushed the doors open for him.

Curt walked bravely into the sunlit room, and he almost began to cry. The room was near empty but for the King, and on the balcony stood the officiant and Owen.

_They were to be married on a balcony, just as Curt had always dreamed._

Curt swallowed his emotion as he made his way to the altar. The crowd was gathered on the ground below them, heralds playing the wedding march on their trumpets, but they felt so far away.

Owen looked stunning. Clad in a deep purple tunic with a matching cape lined with ermine fur- which matched the cloak that Curt was wearing- Owen looked like a jewel shining in the sunlight. Curt felt inadequate in his pure white outfit.

When Curt finally reached the altar, Owen reached over and gently adjusted the white rose that was pinned to his lapel. Curt could see the pearls on his cuff links brushing against the fabric.

When he was done, Owen took Curt’s hands in his. He had a look in his eye that Curt just couldn’t place. “You look wonderful,” He breathed.

Curt had to suppress a blush. “So do you.”

Curt tuned out the ceremony, too focused on staring at Owen. He was captivated by the man who was to be his husband. Curt drank every bit of him in.

“We will now exchange the rings.”

Curt was startled out of his reverie by the statement, and a servant handed him the ring he had brought to give to Owen before scurrying off. It was a simple enough band, made of white gold with diamonds channel set around its entirety.

Curt slid it on to Owen’s ring finger, and Curt sucked in a quiet gasp when Owen presented him with his own. It was a _dearest_ ring; diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz. Curt had never imagined he would receive one.

Owen slipped the ring on his finger gently, and Curt felt his heart buzzing.

“Do you, Prince Owen Michael Carvour III, take Prince Curtis Laurent Mega IV, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Owen said quietly, gazing into Curt’s eyes.

“Do you, Prince Curtis Laurent Mega IV, take Prince Owen Michael Carvour III, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Curt breathed.

“I now pronounce you married. You may kiss.”

The crowd below them was roaring. Owen leaned forwards, and Curt met him in the middle, lips brushing.

“Are you okay with this?” Owen whispered.

“I am,” Curt whispered back, closing his eyes.

Owen brought his arms up and wrapped them around Curt’s waist. He kissed him gently, lips barely parted.

Curt’s heart soared.


	6. Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we love and appreciate Soft Owen

The celebratory ball had been long, and all Curt wanted to do was curl up in bed and go to sleep.

He walked arm in arm with Owen to his quarters- _their_ quarters, now. Owen had stayed faithfully by his side throughout the party, offering him comfort when he needed it.

Owen quietly pushed the door open, and Curt took it in. The room was elegant; white painted walls with gold trim, a vaulted ceiling with a chandelier dangling down, a balcony Curt assumed overlooked the gardens, a chaise lounge that sat at the end of one of the largest beds he’d ever seen.

Owen led him to sit on the chaise lounge, taking Curt’s hands in his. “We’ll be leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow.”

Curt nodded in acceptance. It would be nice to get out of the palace and away from the judgement of the Carvonyan nobles, and it would give him more time to get to know his new husband.

Owen brought up a hand and brushed it against Curt’s cheek gently. “How are you holding up?”

Curt suppressed a blush at his touch. He chose to be honest with the man. “I’m as well as I can be.”

Owen ran his thumb over Curt’s cheekbone. “You’ll tell me if something upsets you?”

Curt closed his eyes and shuddered slightly at the contact. “I will.”

“Thank you.”

Owen rose to his feet, and Curt watched him stride to the other side of the room. He returned with two sets of bedclothes, and handed a pair to Curt. They were soft, made of fine silk.

Curt’s face turned crimson as something dawned on him. “I need help undressing.”

Curt could see some heat rise to Owen’s face, but his husband nodded in understanding.

Curt stood, placing the bedclothes down where he’d been sitting, and Owen approached him slowly. He moved to unclasp Curt’s cloak, and it fell to the ground with a soft thud.

His fingers brushed over Curt’s collar as he went to remove his tunic, and Curt shuddered at the contact. His husband pulled it off delicately, fingertips gently grazing against his bare skin.

Curt marveled at Owen’s restraint.

Curt was able to take his trousers off himself- if Owen touched his legs, he thought he might collapse.

Owen picked up the bedclothes and helped Curt into them, his touch ghosting over Curt’s skin. When he was fully dressed, they were practically nose to nose with how close they were. Owen’s eyes lingered on his lips, and Curt was doing the same, looking at the gentle curve of his Cupid’s bow.

For a moment, Curt thought Owen would kiss him.

Owen swallowed. “Please excuse me.” He pulled away from Curt, and made his way into an attached room- probably the bathroom.

Curt stared after him, and after waiting for what felt like an eternity, he crawled into bed.

By the time he fell asleep, Owen still hadn’t returned.


	7. A Palace By The Sea

Curt was never one to favor early rising, so he wasn’t exactly pleased when he had to get up at sunrise to leave for the honeymoon.

Owen seemed to sense his foul mood, and slipped his hand into Curt’s. “You can sleep in the carriage, ducky.”

Curt didn’t question the nickname, assuming it to be a Carvonyan term of endearment. He just squeezed Owen’s hand briefly.

They got to the carriage, and Owen helped him in before climbing in after. They sat side by side, close enough that their shoulders and knees were brushing.

Curt closed his eyes, leaning against the window. He drifted off quickly.

——————————————

When Curt awoke, the sun was shining directly on his face. He scrunched his nose in irritation and buried his face further into the warm body he was resting on.

Wait. Warm body?

Curt opened his eyes to find that in his sleep, he’d ended up tucked into Owen’s side, head resting on his shoulder. His husband’s arm was around his waist.

Apparently Owen could feel him shifting around, as the man looked down at him. “Awake?” He asked, sounding amused.

Curt blushed, averting his eyes. He opened his mouth to apologize, or perhaps explain, but Owen just put a hand under his chin and ran his thumb over Curt’s cheek.

“We’re married, Curt. I think a little affection can be forgiven.”

Curt felt a tingle go down his spine at the contact. He swallowed. “How long until we arrive?”

Owen looked out the window, not withdrawing his hand from Curt’s face. “I’d say we should get there by lunchtime.”

Curt nodded, and nuzzled back into Owen’s shoulder for the remainder of the journey.

Upon their arrival, a servant opened the door to the carriage, and Owen exited first before offering Curt his hand.

Accepting the assistance, Curt stepped out of the carriage and took in the view. The palace was smaller in both width and height, but it was no less impressive than Carvour Palace. That wasn’t what caught Curt’s attention, though.

The palace was on a cliff side, and Curt could hear the sounds of the sounds of the sea below them. He looked at Owen in shock, lips parted.

Owen put his arms around Curt, holding him by the waist- though at an appropriate distance. “I thought being closer to the ocean would make you more comfortable.”

Curt’s mouth was dry. “It does.”

The corners of Owen’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I’m glad. This- the Oceanside Palace- is my wedding gift to you.”

Curt gaped at him. “It’s. . . It’s what?”

Owen brought up a hand and brushed it against Curt’s cheek gently. “This palace has been scarcely used for years. I’m giving it to you.” His eyes were soft. “My new husband.”

Tears began welling up in Curt’s eyes as he was overwhelmed with emotion. Never had he thought he would ever be with someone so thoughtful.

Owen frowned worriedly. “Have I upset you?”

Curt shook his head. “No. I’m just- so _happy._ Thank you, Owen.”

Owen pressed a delicate kiss to Curt’s forehead. “It was my pleasure.”


	8. A Palace By The Sea II

For the first time since the treaty was finalized, Curt felt truly happy.

He believed it had something to do with the air. It was invigorating, being back by the sea. Just being able to look out and watch the waves crash against the sand. . .

Curt stared out at it from the balcony. The room he and Owen were staying in was the master bedroom of the palace, and it had the most beautiful view. Curt adored it.

He rested his hands against the balcony rail and turned to look back at Owen, who was reading a book on the bed. “Owen?”

Owen looked up at him, already closing his book, marking the page with his thumb. “Yes, Curt?”

“Would you like to go to the beach?” Curt cast his gaze back to the sea, practically feeling the water lapping at his ankles already.

Curt felt Owen’s arms wrapping around his waist, and he leaned into the touch. “I think that sounds wonderful,” Owen murmured into his ear.

Curt preened.

They traveled light; just the two of them, as well as Barb and the red haired woman Curt saw the day he arrived- her name was Tatiana, he learned.

Curt was practically vibrating with anticipation, dragging Owen by the hand down to the sand as quickly as he could.

Owen chuckled in amusement. “I’ve never seen you so excited before, ducky.”

Curt practically skidded to a halt once he deemed they were a suitable distance from the ocean, sand crunching beneath his heels. “I just can’t wait to get into the water!”

Curt quickly started undressing, beginning with his boots and continuing with his tunic. He’d dressed lightly, knowing he was just going to be taking most of it off anyway.

Owen stared at him in shock, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Curt! What are you-”

Curt shrugged the rest of his clothes off, standing only in his breeches. “I can’t very well go swimming fully dressed, now, can I?”

Had it been any other situation, Curt likely would’ve been mortified to be standing in front of Owen like this; however, something about the sea just robbed him of his inhibitions.

Owen nervously undressed himself, stripping down to the same level that Curt was at, and Curt happily took Owen’s hand in his and dragged him right into the water.

It was a relief to feel the sea against his skin; it felt like getting into bed after a long day on his feet.

Curt stopped once the water was around waist high for him, though it was a bit lower on Owen.

Owen stood there awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to do. Curt solved the problem for him; with a wide grin, he splashed his husband.

Owen sputtered, spitting water out of his mouth. “Hey!”

Curt laughed as Owen splashed him back, and he dove under the water so as to let himself be engulfed in its comforting coolness.

They swam for ages; though most of it was Curt swimming while Owen chased him.

Curt had never felt so alive.


	9. Sweep Me Off My Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> innocent whistling

Curt and Owen had taken to walking around the perimeter of the palace and taking in the nature around them. It was a simple action that Curt dared to call romantic- but only privately, to himself.

Right now, though, Curt was not having a very good time at all.

It had been his fault- he’d been distracted looking at Owen as the man laughed, and Curt tripped on a tree root and twisted his ankle.

Owen was crouched beside him worriedly, brow furrowed as he examined Curt’s ankle.

“I’m fine, Owen,” Curt lied to try and soothe his husband- it was actually quite painful, but he wanted Owen to feel better.

Owen frowned. “Your ankle’s swollen, ducky. I don’t think you should stand.”

“I’m _fine,_ Owen, I swear,” Curt reasserted, moving to try to stand and wincing.

Owen stopped him. “Here, let me help you.”

Curt expected Owen to help him to his feet, but instead his husband stood up and hooked his arms underneath Curt’s knees and back, scooping him up bridal style.

Curt yelped in surprise as he was settled against Owen’s chest. “ _Mon dieu!_ Owen!”

“What kind of husband would I be if I let you hurt yourself?” Owen traced his finger in small circles on Curt’s shoulder blade.

Curt shivered. “That’s sweet, _mon coeur,_ really, but it’s not necessary-”

Owen shushed him gently. “Darling, please.”

Something in his voice quieted Curt, though he pouted unhappily all the way up to their quarters.

Owen laid him down on their bed, adjusting and fluffing pillows behind him. “Let me fetch you a physician, ducky.”

Curt had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the fretting from his husband. “Why do you call me ‘ducky’?”

Owen quirked an eyebrow at him, and countered, “Why did you call me _mon coeur?_ ”

Curt blushed, having almost forgotten his slip of the tongue. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

“I’ll tell you right after you tell me,” Owen said before patting Curt’s thigh affectionately. “Sit tight, _ducky._ ”

Owen rose to his feet and strode out of the room, leaving Curt to stare after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mon coeur- my heart/my sweetheart


	10. Neither One Prepared. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might have noticed that there’s finally a chapter count here, but that’s not the end for our boys! There WILL be a sequel, I promise!

Apparently, Curt’s ankle was sprained.

The physician had wrapped it tightly and advised that he keep it elevated and to stay off his feet for a few days.

Which meant he had to stay in bed.

Curt sighed in annoyance. The first day of his enforced bed rest wasn’t even halfway over, and he was already tired of it.

Owen, however, was going to great pains to try and keep him entertained.

His husband was, for the most part, staying faithfully by his side, doing his best to cheer Curt up. Which was a truly sweet gesture- though sometimes Curt wished he was allowed to just pout in irritation.

As if the mere thought of him was enough to summon his presence, Owen reappeared from the other end of the room, book in hand. “I think I found you something to read, ducky. It’s one of my favorites.”

Curt accepted the book from him and ran his fingers over the cover. It was simple, worn, clearly well loved. “What is it?”

Owen sat on the bed next to him. “It’s a book of fairytales. My mum used to read them to me when I was little.”

Curt cracked open the book, and his heart dropped into his stomach. He bit his lip nervously and looked up at his husband.

“Owen? I, um, I can only read French.”

Curt’s cheeks burned with the humiliation of the confession, and he waited for derision to follow- maybe even disgust.

Instead, Owen asked him gently, “Would you like for me to read it to you?”

Still blushing, Curt nodded and handed it back to him. Their fingertips brushed, but Owen simply laid down beside him and opened the book, flipping the pages until he settled on a story.

“Here, this is a French tale- it’s called Beauty and the Beast. Have you heard this one before?”

Curt shook his head, practically melding into Owen’s side. He told himself it was so he could see the pages better, in case there were any illustrations, but he knew internally he just wanted to be closer to his husband.

Owen cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, a young prince lived in a shining castle. . .”

Curt closed his eyes, letting Owen’s voice wash over him.


	11. Returning The Favor

The moment Curt was allowed, he was back on his feet and taking the carriage with Barb to the nearby town.

He was still touched by the wedding gift Owen had given him, so he’d decided to return the gesture. He probably wasn’t going to give him something as grand as a palace, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

He and Barb were going incognito, which meant Curt was dressed in his least impressive clothes; a simple tunic and a cloak without any fur lining it. He probably looked like a nobleman rather than a prince, which was fine by him- he didn’t want to be recognized, after all.

The carriage stopped just outside the town, and he and Barb made their way through the market. It was bustling and crowded, and Curt suddenly felt claustrophobic. Barb, luckily, was more experienced than Curt was when it came to doing things such as this, so she dragged him off to a stall filled with books.

Curt, not wanting to give anything away to the people around them, spoke to her in French as he perused the wares, going exclusively based off of their covers. “ _Barb, which one of these do you think Owen would like?_ ”

Barb plucked a heavy tome from one of the top shelves- unlike Curt, she was able to read English. “ _Here, this looks to be something he’d enjoy. It’s a collection of plays._ ”

Curt nodded, and turned to address the merchant. “How much for this book?”

The merchant- a dirty, one-eyed man- glared at him. “We don’t serve _your kind_ here.”

Curt stood up straighter and glared back. It had been so long since he’d interacted with anyone other than Owen or a servant, he’d almost forgotten he was an outsider. “What do you mean, _my kind?_ ”

The merchant sneered at him. “Filthy little Megaterrans.”

Before Curt could argue further, there was a hand at his elbow, and he saw a flash of red hair from the corner of his eye.

Owen’s servant, Tatiana, had a firm grip on him and was glaring at the merchant. “I’d suggest you watch your tongue. He’s buying the book for His Highness Prince Owen.”

The merchant’s eyes widened, as if it dawned on him that Curt was someone of importance, and he bowed his head deeply. “My apologies. You may take the book.”

Curt’s nostrils flared angrily, but he nodded once and threw a few gold pieces on the counter before marching away, the girls at his heels.

When they were a suitable distance from the market, Tatiana fixed him with a look. “You shouldn’t have left on your own, Your Highness. It’s still dangerous to be a Megaterran.”

“I wasn’t alone. I brought Barb.”

Tatiana pressed her lips together, opening the carriage door for him when they arrived. “No offense, Your Highness, but Barb is also a Megaterran. She wouldn’t have been any help.”

“How did you even know where to find me?” Curt questioned, climbing into the carriage and accepting the book from Barb when she passed it to him.

“Prince Owen began to worry about you after you left, so he sent me to make sure you were okay.” She tilted her head up challengingly, as if to dare Curt to be mad.

Curt deflated slightly. He couldn’t be upset if that was the reason. “Well, I suppose that’s all right then. But _only_ because Owen sent you.”

Tatiana and Barb shared a look that Curt couldn’t place.


	12. A Night at the Theater

It was becoming harder and harder for Curt to understand the feelings he had for Owen.

Every innocent touch between the two of them sent his heart racing. Hell, sometimes just looking at his husband was enough to make him blush.

It didn’t help that Owen seemed to be doing his best to make Curt happy.

Every morning they’d have their breakfast in bed, and Owen would sit next to him and ask what he wanted to do for the day.

“Ducky,” Owen said slowly, putting down his utensils. “I’d love to take you to the theater tonight.”

Curt looked up in interest, and Owen continued, “The local theater is putting on this wonderful little love story, and I think it would be fun to attend.”

“Owen.” Curt put his hand on Owen’s arm gently. “You don’t need to convince me. I think that sounds lovely.”

Owen leaned forwards and brushed a kiss against Curt’s forehead. “Excellent.”

——————————————

Owen seemed to be buzzing with excitement the whole day, and Curt thought it was adorable.

His husband kept chattering happily to Curt about how much he loved the theater, and how he saw the play once before as a child with his Mum and fell in love with it.

Owen’s joy was infectious, and Curt found himself almost as anxious as the taller man was.

They took the carriage down to the town, escorted by a set of guards and wearing some of their finest clothes. Curt thought Owen looked absolutely stunning, and he said as much.

Owen just gave him a grin and kissed his hand. “So do you, ducky.”

Their seats were in the upper part of the theater, in a fine balcony reserved for members of the royal family that had a wondrous view of the stage. They sat beside each other, hand in hand.

When the lights went off, Owen’s eyes were glued to the performance, but Curt kept sneaking peaks at his husband. He was enraptured by it, practically hypnotized, with a wide grin on his face that made Curt want to kiss him silly.

Oh, lord help him, Curt was in love with Owen.


	13. The Morning Sun

Curt couldn’t sleep that night.

He laid in bed next to Owen, his husband’s arms wrapped around his waist and his face nuzzled into his neck, and just stared up at the ceiling.

When had he fallen in love with Owen?

It was so strange, Curt thought, how he could go from a total stranger to this. He’d never anticipated falling in love with the other prince; he’d expected to do his duty and be resigned to live in a loveless marriage until the day he died.

Yet Owen had offered him nothing but kindness and affection, even when he didn’t have to, and something about that made Curt just go head over heels for the man.

Curt dragged his finger down Owen’s nose slowly, watching the way his face scrunched in irritation before relaxing. Could Owen ever love him back?

Curt thought of the way Owen looked at him, the way he held Curt’s hand even when he didn’t need to and the way he would lightly kiss Curt’s forehead. Yes, maybe Owen could love him.

The sunrise began to shine through the window, beams of light hitting Owen’s face in tiny rainbows.

Eventually, Owen’s face scrunched again before he blinked up at Curt. “D’cky? Y’okay?”

Curt smiled down at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead gently. “I’m wonderful, _mon coeur._ ”

Owen nodded, closing his eyes and nuzzling back into Curt’s neck as he pulled him closer.

Curt just watched him, content.


	14. Finale

Now that Curt knew he loved Owen, he needed to actually _tell_ him. Which was much easier said than done.

He just kept getting choked up. He’d look at Owen and his words would just die in his throat. It was a fear of rejection, he believed; if he never told Owen his feelings, Owen could never break his heart.

Owen was starting to notice something was wrong with him, too, which was just making him more anxious.

“Curt? Can you sit with me for a moment?”

Owen’s voice snapped Curt out of his thoughts, and he looked up at his husband. Owen’s brow was slightly furrowed, eyes tinged with worry and hand extended for him to take.

Curt nodded, taking Owen’s hand in his and intertwining their fingers as Owen tugged him over to a chaise lounge on the balcony.

They sat side by side, facing each other and still holding hands. “Owen? What did you want to talk about?”

Owen brought up his free hand and cupped Curt’s cheek gently. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Curt looked at him slightly surprised, wondering if he had begun to suspect Curt’s feelings. “Of course. What makes you say that?”

Owen ran his thumb over Curt’s cheekbone, eyes flitting over Curt’s face. “I’m beginning to fear I’ve done something to make you upset with me. That’s the last thing I want.”

All of Curt’s greatest fears- his insecurities in himself, his fear of rejection- began bubbling to the surface as tears began to well in his eyes. He whispered, “Please don’t do this to me, Owen.”

Owen frowned worriedly, squeezing Curt’s hand in his tightly. “Do _what_ to you?”

Curt’s voice broke as the tears began to flow. “Please don’t make me believe you could ever feel for me the way I do for you.”

Confusion crossed Owen’s face, before understanding, followed by relief. “Oh Curt,” He breathed, beginning to kiss away Curt’s tears, “you silly, silly fool. I have loved you since the moment I met you.”

It took a moment for Curt to process this information- especially since he kept being distracted by the feeling of Owen’s warm lips against his skin. “You. . . You have?”

Owen pressed their foreheads together, his nose practically nuzzling into Curt’s cheek. “Yes, ducky, my love. Never could I have ever _imagined_ to be with someone as- as wonderful as you-”

Owen, Curt decided, was doing too much talking for a man who just admitted he loved Curt. So he decided to solve that problem for the both of them.

Curt closed the small gap between them and kissed him for the first time since their wedding day, eliciting a startled noise out of Owen before he melted into it. It tasted like Curt’s own salty tears, but he didn’t _care;_ he was kissing Owen, and that was enough.

That was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all, folks! Sequel will be up,,,, later


End file.
